Lakota Life Part 3: Graceful Maiden
by Donna della Penna
Summary: We all know the story of Spirit, the brave mustang that won his freedom despite the odds. But what of the three Lakota horses he met? In Part 3, we follow the grey mare.
1. Alone Again

**Hello, Donna della Penna here. Wow, only one day left of my winter vacation to write.**

**This is the first-person story of the last of the trio from Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (which I do not own in any way). You'll notice that she is much more "worldly" and experienced with the soldiers than the other horses, and that is because I wanted to try to take a stab at a scenario in which a born cavalry horse escapes, ends up in the wild, and then is taken in by Native Americans (which happened often during the Native American Wars).**

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.

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**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 1: Alone Again**

"Go on without me!" I whinnied to Star and Clear Sky.

"We can't just leave you here!" the sorrel mare replied

"I'll be fine! You two just get out of here!"

"No! Not until we rescue you!"

"Hey, there are two horses over there! Take them!" a foreman called. Another beside him took out his pistol and aimed at my friends. I reared angrily an struck him on the back of the head.

"Go! Run!" I whinnied urgently. The grey stallion nodded to me and left with the mare. The men gathered around me, pulling at the chains that hung from my harness and vying to throw a rope around my neck.

I caught a flash of movement in the corner of my eye and kicked, and I felt my hooves contact something. I threw myself around within the circle of men. Some leapt away, others were hit by my hooves. When I finally had the chance, I thundered away, the trees passing me on one side and the rails on the other. I still had a rope around my neck and my harness was still fastened, but I didn't care. I had to get away.

I slowed down when I no longer saw any signs of the workers and tried to think. My rope and my harness presented a hazard and had to be removed somehow. Then I had to find food, water, and shelter. After that, of course, I had to find my way. . . and all on my own.

"All right, Adalia, you can do this again," I thought.

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As I'm sure you've guessed by now, my first given-name is Adalia, and unlike many of the horses I've known so far, I was born into the soldiers' world. The place of my birth was a cavalry post on the plains, run by one, Major Gordon. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young either, and he rarely lost his temper. He'd been kind to all of the horses at the post and was respected by those he commanded. All of the horses wished they would have the chance to carry him into battle.

My first clear memory is waking up in a stall at my mother's feet as she'd fed from a hanging hay bale. Her name was Connie, and I remember satring up at her, awed by her jet-black coloring and her strong build. I'd whinnied softly, startling her a bit, and then she'd looked down at me. She had soft, light-brown eyes and a star and snip adorning her face.

"Well, little one, you're up," she'd said warmly. "Good morning." She'd lowered her muzzle to me and nudged me, urging me to stand. I'd tottered to her side to nurse, and she'd nickered deep in her throat. Like most young animals, in that moment, I'd felt completely safe and warm.

My mother and I had been allowed rejoin the other horses a few days later, when I'd gained a little more strength. My mother had immediately walked over to the other mares in the paddock, greeting them after (from what I'd heard) a week in the stall, and I had stayed behind her, shy beyond reason. Her friends had looked at me tenderly and said that I looked like me father, and then had gone back to rekindling their friendship with my mother. At that time, I'd learned that there were other foals in the paddock, and I'd attached myself to them for companionship. We'd ran around in circles as we chased each other, and had often nipped our mothers when they weren't looking. But, I hadn't been able to figure out why I looked like my father. . . I hadn't even wondered who he was at that point.

However, two days after my mother and I had been led into the paddock, I met my father, the famed mount of the Major.


	2. Meeting Father

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kathleen Duey's/Dreamworks' original characters. **

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 2: Meeting Father**

One spring afternoon, my mother and I were in the paddock with the other horses–she was grazing with her friends and I was playing with mine. The previous two days had been cold and rainy, and it'd felt wonderful to be outside. We'd just galloped around the paddock for the umteenth time when we heard a deep whinny. The adult looked up and whinnied back, for on the other side of the fence stood an immense dapple grey stallion with a thick, black mane and tail. (I later found out that he was my father.) My mother had perked up and trotted over to him, and had rubbed her head against his affectionately. I'd cantered over out of curiosity and, upon realizing just how large he was, hid behind my mother's legs.

"You look well, Connie," he'd said to my mother. "I missed seeing you here."

"I missed you, too. That stall felt incredibly cramped and dreary for a long time." She'd tossed her head. "I had company soon enough, though."

The stallion had looked at her tenderly and nuzzled her neck, knowing she'd been referring to her foal. I'd looked around my mother's legs shyly and nickered, which caused him to look at me.

"How long were you there, little one?" my mother had asked with a laugh.

The stallion had bent his neck over the fence, extending his muzzle to me. I'd been nervous, but had nevertheless returned the gesture. When we'd finished exchanging scents, he'd snorted happily and nipped my short, upright mane.

"She's beautiful, Connie. What is her name?"

"The major decided on 'Adalia'."

"'Adalia'...how fitting." He'd licked my cheek, and I'd half-reared excitedly. Then he'd picked his head up.

"Cornelius, is it true? Have the humans of the plains rallied together?" my mother had asked in a more serious tone. Her mate had nodded gravely.

"Don't trouble yourself with these thoughts, Connie."

"But I hear the plains humans are at their strongest and are merely waiting for the right moment to strike!"

"Hush now, Connie. Our humans have been able to drive their enemies back time and time again, and this time will be no different."

"Those were small raids on the post, Cornelius, not full-scale battles! Two horses were killed and five were injured the last time, not to mention the soldiers we lost, and we will surely lose more!"

"Connie–"

"You, by far, are the most vulnerable because you carry Major Gordon into battle! I myself heard the grooms saying how lucky you were not to have been hit by the bullet that struck the major in the leg!"

"We are horses, Connie, and we cannot help what happens to us. It is our fate."

My mother had sighed heavily and lowered her head, uncomfortable with the entire subject. My father had touched her muzzle with his in an attempt to raise her spirits. She'd responded to the caress sadly.

Later, in the afternoon, the alarm sounded, and men scrambled to find their horses. The plains humans had appeared on the horizon. My father had galloped to the gate of the paddock, whinnying over his shoulder, and met the major's attendant. My mother, the other horses in the paddock, and I had stood at the fence and watched them thunder away.

They did not return until after dark. They'd managed to repel their enemy, but at the cost of ten men and nine horses killed, and many other wounded. Their re-entry was slow and solemn–they'd looked nothing like victors. The horses who had been left behind to worry and fret whinnied in anguish when their friends did not appear. I'd rejoiced at my mother's and my fortune, for the dapple grey stallion had come home unscathed. However, some of my mother's friends had refused to associate with her and her mate for quite a while, opting to send seething looks their way, for they had lost loved ones.

As I grew, I came to understand that this was the life of a cavalry horse. Some days were peaceful from sunrise to sunset; other days saw nothing but bloodshed. We lived with the fear of galloping off to battle and never returning. No, I'm wrong. The stallions and colts lived with that thought. The mares and fillies rarely went out, for we were kept in the fort to replenish the supply of horses. Many outside traders did not want to make the journey here because they feared death, but one or two brave souls came with strings of young horses.

Despite the dangers lurking out the tall, thick wooden walls of the fort, life was rather serene. All too soon, my friends and I grew into fine three-year-olds, and we were to be broken-in by the major himself. We'd seen the older horses ridden as we'd grown up, and we knew we were needed, but the process did not go on without some bites, kicks, and general resistence. (I myself am guilty of snapping at one of the major's attendants.) We all passed the test, however, and were taken to be marked as official cavalry horses on day in late spring. Again, we'd seen this happen before–a few moments under the touch of the branding iron, a few cuts of our manes and tails with the scissors, and then a rest in our stalls. It was a normal event.

However, we were in for the shock of our lives.


	3. Rogues

**Hello, hello again, readers! I know, I haven't posted anything for this story for a long while, but I hope the newest batch of material will make up for it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's original characters**

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**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 3: Rogues**

The last bit of hair had been snipped from a tail and swept away, and then a group of men had led us over to the blacksmith to be branded. I was sixth in a long line of fifteen. We'd stood there quietly, our handlers talking to one another, and watched the blacksmith tend the fire. The branding iron had been heating for a while.

"We ready to do this?" the tall, lean blacksmith had asked, spitting tobacco tar onto the ground. When the soldiers had agreed, the first horse was led forward.

The men had acted in swift, coordinated movements–the chestnut had been led forward as the iron was lifted from the coals, the red-hot metal had touched the skin with a singe (causing the horse to jump, of course), then the iron had been lifted away while one of the men doused the flesh with water to stop the burning, then the horse had been led away. It had taken minutes.

"Next," the blacksmith had said.

The process had been the same for the next three horses, and when the last of them had been led away, the blood-bay in front of me had begun to grow nervous.

"Come on, boy," the handler had said, "don't make this difficult." The colt had backed up abruptly, nearly crashing into me, and several men had come forward to help.

"Come on!"

"Robert, tie a rope around his neck!"

The colt had shrieked in terror and frustration and began to thrash around. A rope had been torn from the hands of one of the men, and another had steppes in to take his place.

We'd all backed away to avoid being hit by a hoof or a loose rope, and had looked on nervously. Then, to our horror, the colt had inadvertently kicked the trough with the embers in it. It hadn't rained for a few days before this, so the grass in the fort was very dry. The smith's station had been located near the wooden walls, and the resulting fire had quickly spread and had climbed up the parched wood.

Those of us who had been waiting our turn panicked and broke away from our handlers, galloping through the open gates. We were young and driven by fear, and had not looked back as we thundered over the land. Our halters had still been on, some of us contending with flapping lead ropes, but none of us had gotten caught on shrubs.

We'd slowed down after a while, but did not stop until the sun began to set. Of the fifteen three-year-olds who had been lined up in front of the blacksmith that afternoon, seven–including myself–escaped that day. (Ironically, the colt who had started the fire had been subdued.)

"What now?" a dapple-grey filly had asked quietly.

A tall black colt had shaken himself and looked around. "We have to find cover. We're easy targets out here in the open like this."

"But where can we go? There's nothing but shrubs here," a bay colt had contested. "There's nowhere to hide."

The black colt had looked around again, setting his gaze on a large tree formation in the distance. "We'll sleep there for tonight," he'd said, "and one or two of us at a time will keep watch."

We'd all agreed that his plan was the best–it was better than being in the open–and had followed the colt over to the stand of trees. Just as we'd drawn near, he'd stopped mid-step.

"What is it, Sirdar?" a chestnut colt had asked quietly. The black colt had grunted a reply, his ears pinned forward and his nostrils wide. We'd looked at one another uneasily, wondering if he'd scented a cougar or a wolf.

At length, Sirdar had relaxed and started forward again. "I thought I'd seen something," he's said. "I had to be sure there was nothing dangerous nearby."

"Such forethought!" the dapple-grey filly had muttered in admiration.

"We're sure to survive with him around," her friend had replied.

Our little band had settled down for the night under the trees, under the watchful eyes of Sirdar and the chestnut colt. It'd been quiet–very quiet–except for the chirping of the crickets, and we'd drifted to sleep quickly. Odd, really, given the events of that day.

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When morning came, we'd shaken the drowsiness from our bodies and ventured out into the open to graze. It was then that we'd truly gotten to know one another.

Sirdar the black colt had essentially become the leader of our group, with the chestnut as his second-in-command. His name was Leo. There had also been two more colts: Akasha the blood-bay, and Duke the strawberry-roan. There had only been three fillies: Rosa the palomino, Mercedes the dapple-grey, and myself.

I'd played with Rosa and Duke a lot when I was younger, and I'd been glad to have them with me. The others were nice, but I'd never had much contact with them before this. (Leo and Akasha had been brought to the fort only a few months before, now that I think of it.)

We'd been grazing for a short while when Sirdar nickered to get our attention.

"I know we've found relative peace here," he'd said, "but we cannot stay. This is only a small thicket at the edge of the forest, and we are in the open. It would probably be best if we follow the deer-paths and find another place to live."

"The fort isn't too far away," Rosa had said in her quiet voice. "Couldn't we just go back?"

"No. You saw how sparse the grass was beyond the fort, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but–"

"We'd never survive the long trek back. Perhaps not of starvation, but from a lack of cover from predators."

"There's nothing but charred wood and injured men and horses there, anyway," Akasha had added grimly.

"I suppose," the filly had said.

"Our best option is to move on, away from the fort. Let's go."

He'd turned away and led off without another word, with Leo following close behind. We'd fallen in step behind the colts sadly. I'd hoped my mother and father had not been injured in the fire, and I'm sure the others had felt the same way for the rest of the horses.

We'd been without masters, without anyone to tell us how to behave or how to survive. All we'd had were the older horses' tales of danger-filles escapes and our own instincts. We'd evaded our destiny to carry men into battle, and had gone from being the offspring of strong, well-bred cavalry horses to rogues.


	4. The Humans of the Plains

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 4: The Humans of the Plains**

The days had given way to months very quickly, and we'd all survived the trek through the forest and onto the plains. True to Sirdar's words, the new territory was better than the one we'd left behind, for it had been lush and full of tender, new grass. All too soon, the leaves on the trees had begun to change and fall away from the branches in waves of orange and yellow, and the grass had begun to dry and become crunchy.

We'd forgotten our life at the post. Our halters had fallen off when the rusty buckles were too weak to hold them to our heads, and our last tie to our past had thus been broken. We'd formed deeper bonds within the group, although Sirdar had still managed to distance himself from us. I'd become fast friends with Tahj, and we'd often graze next to each other when Sirdar let us rest.

It had been during one of these moments when we were discovered.

The day had started out as the others had: sunny and cool. We'd reached a point where the trees began to close in. A river ran through the plain, undoubtedly from one of the mountains, and Sirdar had led us there to drink. We'd all dived into the water, sending curtains of it into the air. We'd been pretty grimy from the dust and dirt and sweat that had accumulated on our bodies, so we'd jumped at the chance for a bath.

Sirdar had waded in last, after making sure we were not in any danger, and had slowly made his way across to the other side. He'd taken his drink as he went, swiveling his ears back and forth. Then he'd shaken the water from himself and kept watch as he waited for us.

I'd left the river after a long drink and a bath, with Tahj right behind me. My companion had approached our leader, still dripping wet.

"You can go back into the water if you like, Sirdar," he'd said. "Adelia and I can keep watch."

"Yes, you should enjoy it more," I'd added.

"It's all right," the black gelding had replied, swishing his still-wet tail. "I'm fine here."

"You worry too much!" Tahj had exclaimed with a snort. "Relax and leave the watch to us for now."

"I don't worry too much," the other had replied indignantly.

Tahj had flattened his ears and grunted in frustration, and Sirdar finally given in. He'd sighed and slowly made his way toward the water. He hadn't put one hoof into the water when the trees on the other side of the river erupted before three mounted men. Tahj and I had whinnied a warning and leaped backward, while Sirdar had dived into the water to hurry the others along. They'd emerged in short order, and we'd all started to gallop away. However, four more mounted men had appeared before us, seemingly from nowhere, causing us to skid to a halt. The three who had launched the ambush came up behind us and blocked off any remaining means of escape. We'd huddled together, still whinnying frantically as they'd whooped and cheered excitedly.

"What is this? Who are they?" Rosa had asked.

"They're humans of the plains," Duke had replied. "They have to be."

We'd finally met them, after hearing countless stories from the soldiers and from the older horses.

They were entirely different from the humans we'd known. They'd been dressed in tan clothing of various kinds, with beads, feathers, and color on their bodies; they'd carried sticks with pointed rocks on the end. Their horses, too, had been decorated with color, and had not worn any tack like ours; the only thing that had lain on their backs were wide pieces of cloth.

Rosa had screamed in terror and reared, only to be ensnared by a rope thrown by one of the men surrounding us. The other men had followed his example. Ropes had whistled through the air and landed around our necks with sickening accuracy. We'd tried to fight, but they'd led on without paying us much heed. So, we'd followed them.

We'd walked for two days, and during that time the men had hunted and avoided enemy plains humans. We'd left the heavy forest-cover and entered a hilled, grass-covered terrain. There, in the midst of a rolling green ocean and in the trough between two hills, had been an arrangement of ten large tents and fifteen or so smaller ones. Each had had the flaps that covered the entrance wide open, and humans similar to our captors walked in and out of the white shelters. Some had been laboring over a pile of cloths and furs, and others were riding around the settlement's perimeter on more decorated horses. Some twenty feet away had been the rest of the herd the humans kept.

"I heard the soldiers talking about this," Mercedes had said to Rosa. "The humans of the plains let their horses walk freely, even at night."

"Well, they _seem_ happy enough; they would have fled if they weren't."

The leader of the party had cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered to the rest of the humans; they, in turn, had looked up and responded happily.

"Look, the men are back!"

"They've brought horses with them!"

The man had trotted down the hill, single-file, and had been met by their friends. They'd fawned over us when they had turned their attention from the returning party. Then, all of a sudden, they crowd began to part from the back. A middle-aged man and woman dressed in more tan clothing and furs than any of the other people were making their way to the front. The men had dismounted at once and kneeled.

"Your Grace," they'd said reverently.

"Rise, warriors. There's no need for such formality when you've done this tribe such an honor. These are fine horses you have here. Where do they come from?" the man had asked.

"They belonged to the soldiers in the fort beyond our homeland, Your Grace," the party's leader had replied.

The man had looked us over. "Ah, yes, I see. They bear the cut manes and tails of the army-men's mounts. They will do well here and serve and prime warhorses."

"Husband," the woman at his side had interjected, touching his arm. "Forgive me for doing so, but I must disagree with you on this matter."

He'd turned to her and blinked in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

"Winter is coming quickly, and we will need furs, new needles, and sinew to make clothing and tents. Our Sihasapa allies will arrive to trade with us in a few weeks, and—"

"Say no more, dear wife. You speak the truth" he'd replied amiably. "These horses will be given to our allies when they arrive, in exchange for what we need."

The woman had bowed her head politely and left with him, and we had been led over to the herd alongside the warriors' horses. They'd been very nice to us, even when we were being captured, and had kindly stayed near us when we'd ventured into the middle of the herd. Although, I must say it had been unnecessary, for they had been as kind to us as our escorts.

The lead mare of the herd had greeted us, her young son and the head stallion flanking her.

"Welcome to our homeland," she had said.

Her son had looked up at Sirdar with total admiration, perhaps imagining himself to be as grand as him one day (he _was_, after all, the same deep black color as our leader). "Where do you come from?"

"We came from the army post, far away from here," Duke had replied.

"May I ask where we are exactly?" Sirdar had asked the pinto mare.

Her mate had answered for her. "You are in a Cheyenne village."


	5. Cheyenne to Lakota

**Author's Note: I know you're all going to hate me for this, but this chapter is going to be more of a summary of what happened in Parts 1 and 2, because this one will drag out by the time I write about what happened after the railroad. Sacrifices must be made, I suppose.**

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**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 5: Cheyenne to Lakota**

During the short two or three weeks we had spent with the Cheyenne, we learned much. They spent their lives on the plains, hardly using the forest (save for water and herbs). All of their tools, clothing, and meat came from the buffalo that ran wild beyond their territory.

The village had been large and had many warriors, and they'd thus kept a large herd of horses. They'd cherished their mounts and made sure the herd was always guarded from predators. Even though we were to be traded away to the Lakota, they'd treated us as their own. When the Lakota _had_ come to the village, we hadn't feared the idea of being taken away. The newcomers had looked over us with intense scrutiny, pointing out our every attribute and flaw. Apparently, the leaders of seven tribes had sent their best members to this village to trade. They had been allowed to walk through the tents, bartering and compromising as they went, and had done this for several days.

Then, on their last day, the Chief had led the primary representatives over to us. We had been separated from the herd for this very moment. "My scouts found these horses wandering around in the wild a few weeks ago," he'd said.

"They bear shaved manes," one of his guests had remarked. "They come from the soldiers?"

"They do. They undoubtedly escaped from the fortress not far from here."

Then the men had set to work, as I said before, pointing out any marks we had on our bodies. We'd stayed quiet while they did this.

One of the others had said, "I will take the light brown colt and the black colt, Your Grace. What do you require as a trade item?"

Chief Running Water had held up his hand with a smile. "This is a gift to the seven tribes of the Lakota, for standing by the Cheyenne in times of hardship. I urge each of you to take as many horses as your village needs."

All seven men had bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace."

The man who'd chosen first gently tied two ropes around Sirdar's and Leo's necks and had led them away. Then, the man who had enquired about our origins had taken Akasha. A third had taken Mercedes. The fourth and fifth among them had said that their people did not need the horses at that time, and had reluctantly declined taking up the Chief's offer. The sixth man had chosen Rosa and Duke. The last had chosen me.

"Hello, young one," he'd said to me as he patted me kindly. "Will you come back with me to my village?"

I'd liked him immediately, and had nudged him gently with my muzzle. The Chief, who hadn't left yet, had said, "She is quite taken with you, River Warrior. She will serve the Sihasapa well, I think."

"I agree. Thank you very much, Your Grace."

"You are most welcome. I send your Chief my warmest regards." He'd nodded and walked back to the village.

My escort, River Warrior, tugged the rope a little. "Come. Let us join my friends."

He'd walked around to the other side of the village, where his friends had been carefully packing their gear in large animal-hide satchels. Their horses had been watching quietly, and had looked up as we approached. One had been a large black stallion, the second a mare who was nearly as light in color as I, and the third a pinto stallion.

One of the men had glanced up while packing and saw us. "Well, what do we have here?"

The other man had looked up, too. "Won't Chief Loud Fox be happy to see her?" They'd stood and come toward us, running their hands over my coat.

"You've chosen well, my brother," the first man had remarked.

River Warrior had grinned. "Perhaps your wife will want her for herself, Fire Storm."

"Perhaps," the other had replied with a laugh, "although Cloud Boy, here, might want to give her to _his_ woman instead."

"Don't be silly!" the man in question had cried. "The village needs this mare more than I do. In any event, I have already chosen a gift for her."

They'd continued to talk while I was left with the three horses. The pinto had offered his muzzle to me so we could exchange scents with each other and introduced himself as Storm. The other stallion and the mare had done the same after River Warrior and the others had left. Their names were Dark Shadow and Kita, respectively.

"My name is Adelia," I'd said. "You're Lakota horses, then?"

"Yes," Dark Shadow had replied. "Sihasapa Sioux, to be exact."

I'd tipped my head in confusion. "What?"

"You live here and you know nothing about Native Americans?"

"You mean the humans of the plains? No, I know nothing about them except what I've heard from the soldiers in the army post."

They'd whinnied in alarm and sidled away. Kita asked, "You were an army horse?"

"Why, yes. I've only been here for a few weeks, and I only ended up_ here_ because the scouts for this village found my friends and I alone in the wilderness. Why do you ask?"

Dark Shadow had replied grimly, "The soldiers are _not_ kind to our keepers at all, and wish to push them off of their lands. They _kill_ those who are different from them."

"But the soldiers said—"

"_Lies_, I say. They create lies to justify what they do, but they are nothing but _murderers_."

I'd gaped at them. "I don't believe you."

"You may not believe it _now_," Kita had added, "but you will _soon_. That I promise you."

We hadn't spoken after that, and I was at a loss for words. _Had_ the soldiers lied? If so, had my father's bravery and pride been for naught? Who were the true savages?

* * *

I'd quickly learned that the soldiers were, indeed, the true savages. On the way to the Sihasapa village, we were attacked by two army scouts, and I'd thought of all the patrols the soldiers had gone on. They'd looked for villages to destroy, no doubt.

The week-long journey had taken us back into the forest, where, in a clearing at the bottom of a hill, a small village was nestled. These people had a herd of their own, too, but it, like the village, was small in number. A corral was off to the side, and that's where I had been taken as soon as we'd entered the village.

It had been in that village where I met Clear Sky, Sierra, Rain, Dusk, Soaring Eagle, and many other. I was there for a few years, through hunts, raids by soldiers, death ceremonies, birth celebrations, and the introduction of an incredible stallion who we so appropriately named Raging Fire. Those had been the best years of my life.

But, the dream would not last. In the greatest moment of anguish since my escape from the fort and abandon of my parents, a force of raiders led by Raging Fire's nemesis, the Colonel, found our village and attacked in broad daylight. It was the day when I saw blood of soldiers, Natives, and horses alike spilled upon the ground. That was the day I saw my beloved rider, Silent Wind, _murdered_ before my eyes at the hands of the soldiers who once held my entire life in their hands. The humans who had raised me, who had taught me to carry man upon my back, who had honored horses like my father for their bravery, had turned into the very monsters they believed the Natives to be. They packed us onto a train like common cattle and shipped us to unknown territory and forced us to drag a heavy steam engine over a steep hill.

I thought of this and more as we trundles up that very hill, that impossibly steep hill, and decided that I would finish my life as a workhorse, and would be shot when I was worn out in my prime.

But then, I was given new hope. We _all_ were. That incredible stallion set us free and told us to run for our lives. We took the chance and crested the hill almost at once, desperate to escape he men who had driven us so hard. My two closest friends, Clear Sky and Bright Star of the West, were right there with me, and as ready as I was to start life anew….

The only thing that stood in our way was a group of men at the bottom of the hill with ropes in hand and pistols at the waist.


	6. Recaptured

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 6: Recaptured**

After all that has happened to me, I find myself here, kicking and bucking at the men who surround me. Star is adamant about rescuing me, bless her heart.

"Hey, there are two horses! Take them!" A pistol was pulled out a pocket and I knew it had been trained Star and Clear Sky. I reared in spite of the ropes around my neck, holding me down. My hoof hit the back of the gun-wielder's head. He fell to the side and onto the ground in heap.

"Go! Run!" Clear Sky nodded to me and ran off with Star.

The men turned their attention to me after my surge of energy and pulled harder on the ropes. Still, I was able to throw them off balance and break away. I rocketed away from them, following the railway line and scaring other workers half to death as I passed. I saw that some of the horses that had gone on ahead of me had been secured, too. Part of me wanted to go back and rescue them in one Raging Fire-like move, but the other part of me knew that I would die a miserable death if I went back. I was not Raging Fire, and I could not save everyone that I met. So, I kept running.

After a while, I was on my own, out of sight. The railway went off into the distance, although I had no idea of just _how_ far it went. I couldn't hear the humans anymore, either, but I knew they would follow my hoof-prints in the soft dirt beside the tracks. It would only be a matter of time before they found me.

I looked around and found a deer-trail at the edge of woods. Knowing that it led somewhere into the forest where I could sleep during the night, I followed the winding path. In time, the trail ended in a small clearing, and I really wanted to stop and rest, but there wasn't any water nearby. I was incredibly thirsty after today's events, so I took one of the connecting deer-trails on the other side of the clearing and followed it further into the further.

At this point, I was following this trail deftly. I had no idea where I was going, as I did not know that lay of the land here. I was still wearing my harness and a few ropes around my neck, trailing along the ground. Lack of water would not be my only concern. If wolves caught my scent and chased me, there was a chance that one of the ropes or part of the harness could get snagged on something and pin me down. I would be an easy meal for them.

With that said, I made removing all of these hazards from my body as important as finding water. The ropes were easy enough to dispose of—all I had to do was wedge a tree-branch underneath the loop around my neck until I could my head through. The harness was another matter. It had a cinch that held it snuggly to my body. I would have to break the buckles if I wanted to free myself of it.

Of course, that would take a great amount of caution. One wrong move and I might end up with a wound that could become infected. I'd have even more to worry about then.

I walked on for a while before I tried to remove the harness. I found a very thick tree-branch that could do the job and carefully forced the buckle against it until it broke. I used the same branch to heave the heavy collar off of my shoulder and onto the ground. It hit the dirt with a thud and a clatter of chains. Then I stared at the heap of leather and padding for a few moments, and then continued on my way. I didn't have the time to really reminisce right now. I had to find water and shelter for the night, before darkness fully set in.

* * *

I didn't run into any problems until the sun was very low in the sky. I'd finally found a small stream and had settled in for a drink. I hadn't put my head down for a few moments before the sound of savage growling came from the forest around me. I looked up and saw three pairs of glowing yellow eyes to my right, then another pair to my left, and I saw the distinct gleam of white teeth.

_Wolves_.

I bolted away from the hungry canines when the nearest one flinched and hurtled along the deer-trail in front of me. In near darkness, I weaved around trees and bushes and sailed over logs, still hearing the telltale sound of panting wolves behind me.

I was in trouble. These animals knew this forest well, and I've heard that they can run for miles before they get tired. Trying to find my way in strange territory, in the dark, at this pace, would wear me down fast.

The trail opened up into a rolling meadow, and I awaited the first attacker. The trail had at least slowed the wolves down. They would surely catch me in the open. And they did.

The first wolf leapt onto my back with a growl and latched onto my hindquarter with her mouth as she slid off of my back to the ground. I bucked and jumped around until she released me. The two more came in from both sides, and I reared out of the way. I slashed at them with my hooves, stunning one of them. His companion, enraged to see him on the ground like that, tried to come in for another attack, but I hit him this time and crushed his skull.

The she-wolf leapt onto my back again and sunk her teeth into my shoulder. I bucked and reared like one of the wild horses from my cavalry days, but she still would not let go. A fourth wolf came in to help her partner, but I managed to kick her away. The rest of the wolves hung back, standing in a ring around me, waiting for to go down.

I finally threw the she-wolf from my back and faced the rest of the wolves. They had their teeth bared and their eyes locked onto me. I could _see_ the hunger in their eyes. They would not let me go unless every single member of the pack was on the ground bleeding.

I made the first move this time, charging the wolf that I thought to be the leader. He ran off to the side and eyed my already bleeding hindquarters, licking his lips. I spun around and faced the entire pack again. They were stalking up to me slowly, keeping their bodies close to the ground.

I charged them and targeted one of the younger wolves, chasing it until it stumbled. I gladly took the opportunity to eliminate it, then whirled around and went after the leader again. He ran a full circle before turning to pounce on me, but I kept running and ended up half crushing him. I turned around and finished him off.

The wolves lost their nerve after I killed their leader, and slowly backed away. I charged them just to drive home the point that I could kill them, too, and they retreated into the forest.

I was now covered in bite-marks and blood from the wolves. I had to find a deeper stream to bathe in (I dared not to go back to the one I'd stopped at before).

The next stream was a long way away from the clearing—I could barely smell it. I worried that another pack of wolves or some other night predator would find me now that the scent of blood was in the air. (That is, if the mosquitoes didn't suck all of the blood out of me, first.) Nothing happened, however, and I gratefully slipped into the cool water. I could feel the gravity of what had happened washing away downstream with the blood.

I stayed by the stream for that night, taking shelter in a thicket nearby. But I really didn't sleep well at all. Worry about predators and the biting mosquitoes kept me awake.


	7. More Humans?

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 7: **_**More**_** Humans?**

I stayed by the stream for several days in the end, ambling into the water when I couldn't stand the flies' and mosquitoes' biting any longer. I think all of the water kept my wounds from becoming infected, too. I remembered that the soldiers at the post and the Lakota warriors would repeatedly wash their horses' wounds until they healed over, among other things. So, I waited until my own wounds had mostly healed before moving on.

The only place to go, however, was the open plain, and the forest only extended so far. I ventured out into the plain, keeping the tree-line within sight. I knew coyotes lived out here, so I could always run back to the forest if I had to.

The plains were incredibly lonely. The only sound around me was the howl of the wind and the rustle of the long-grass. I was sure that I would hear predators coming, since it _was_ so quiet. I wondered if I would find a herd of mustangs out here.

I continued on like this for two more days, occasionally returning to the forest to rest to find food or to drink from a small watering hole. It was towards the end of the second day when I caught the scent of horses on the wind. I couldn't see a herd nearby—couldn't hear one, either—so I kept going. When nightfall came, I could see a faint (_very_ faint) glow off in the distance, and I could smell smoke. No doubt that this was a human settlement, though I couldn't know just _who_ had settled there.

I decided to work my way closer to the settlement through the forest over the next few days, that way I could slip away if they were not the sort of humans I wanted to be with. I hoped nothing too out of the ordinary would happen.

* * *

When the sun rose a few mornings later, I still couldn't see the settlement against the dull brown color of the grass. But the remnants of a fire were stronger on the wind now, and I could smell the horses, too. Perhaps this was a cavalry settlement of some sort.

I walked on a little more before I heard whooping and hollering and the thunder of hooves on the ground. I retreated further into the trees and waited.

A group of twenty mounted warriors rocketed by. The men carried tomahawks, spears, bows and arrows, and firearms. They wore animal skins and paint and feathers, and their horses were just as ornately decorated. Natives…they were Natives, but, this far out into the plains? What was there to hunt this late in the year, anyway?

As I watched them gallop away, I wondered how I would approach the herd. If the village had the ability to send that many hunters out at once, _with_ more to spare to guard the village and move their supplies, then the herd must be enormous. I couldn't very well walk up to the herd in broad daylight and expect them to accept me. No, I would have to be "discovered" by the hunters when they come back. Since I hadn't really stopped to rest in a while anyway, I waited where I was. That way, the hunters could pass me by without realizing that I was there, and then I could follow their tracks later on.

They were gone most the morning, because the shadows had become much shorter while I'd been dozing. Then I heard hoof-beats. The warriors passed, toting large animal-skin satchels full of meat and bones with them. I heard them cheering and hollering excitedly, and I could hear the far-off responses of the lookouts who had probably been patrolling around the village. The hardest part was resisting the urge to take off immediately after them. I had to make it appear as though I was wandering along when they eventually found me. I did, however, get the chance to see them disappear beneath a faraway hilltop. I was surprised that I had gotten so close to the settlement so quickly.

I slowly made my way along the edge of the forest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible. I could hear the sounds of the villagers growing louder as I neared the village. It was then that I realized that the land before me was devoid of forestland—everywhere but the land on my left was rolling grassland. Hazy mountain ranges poked up from the horizon to my right and in front of me, and there was no doubt in my mind that more grasslands were beyond the mountains.

I could see the villagers now as they came and took meat and bones from the hunters. They had built their homes around the trough between two hills, and their horses grazed several yards away from them. They twenty horses that had just returned from the hunt stood in a group near their riders, while another thirty or forty stood in the distance. I noted that most of the horses were dark in color—mostly browns and chestnuts and colors like that—with only a handful of greys, pintos, and other colors. That made sense, of course. (You wouldn't want to stand out against the color of the grass and ruin a hunt or a battle.) I began to think that I should give up on my plan—my own light coloring would matter less to a herd of horses than to a group of humans that relied of stealth and concealment.

The wind blew in from my rear, taking my scent straight towards the horses as they waited to be cleaned. Almost as one unit, they raised their heads and looked at me, sniffing the air. Some of the males even lifted their lips to gather more information about me. One of them turned to fully face me and whinnied. This got the warriors' attention, and they followed their horses' gaze.

I couldn't hear anything that they said with the wind blowing in my ears, but I could see that they were excited to see me. Some of the villagers had been nearby and heard them talking about me. They stood with the warriors, looking me over.

I stopped walking and bent my head to sample some of the grass. I'd been staring at the horses longer than good manners allowed, and I dared not to ruin my chances of getting into the herd.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that one of the warriors had walked up to one of the horses. I continued to graze, minding my own business. Then I heard hoof-beats coming my way. I picked my head up when a shadow crossed over me.

A very pretty brown mare stood before me. She made a chuffing sound in her nose and tossed her head. A thick flowing mane and forelock moved with the wind. She offered her muzzle to me in greeting, and I returned the gesture to exchange breaths.

"Will you come back with me?" she asked.

"…Is it all right if I do? Your humans have so many horses as it is," I replied quietly.

"Oh, it's all right. There's always a young warrior in need of a horse. And they're good humans."

"They seem it," I mused.

She tossed her head again, her thick black mane falling around her face. "Please come with me. You don't have to worry."

I considered my options: keep wandering through a land that was unfamiliar to me, or go with this mare and live a good life with good humans….

I nodded my head and took a step forward. The brown mare whinnied happily and leapt around like a foal, kicking at the air with her hooves. She ended up far of me, and stopped to wait for me catch up.

One of the humans called to her. She nudged me forward into a trot, then took the lead and met the man where he stood.

I froze mid-step when I heard my name. It was a name that I had not heard since my youth.

"Adelia!" one of the horses whinnied. I looked up and saw a blue roan stallion calling to me. He stood with another stallion and two mares, and all four of them were stiff and looked ready to gallop. They also had "US" burned into their shoulders.

Then I remembered. They had been playmates of mine from the fort, and had not escaped with Leo, Duke, and the others and me all those years ago.

I couldn't control myself any longer. I stood on my rear legs and let out a long, joyful whinny. They joined me and ran to me, galloping circles and ducking and weaving playfully. The other horses and the warriors were dumbfounded.

My old friends and I started our own little game of chase, just as we had when we were foals and yearlings. I remembered our mothers shaking their heads as we'd chased one another around the paddock.

One of the warriors came up to us after we'd calmed down, and my friends stepped aside as he walked. He held his hand out to me, and I gladly touched my muzzle to his palm without hesitation. I sensed immediately that I would be in good hands.

"Well, pretty one," he said, "it looks as though you already have some friends here."

The others nickered in agreement, and lead the way over towards the rest of the warriors' horses. How lucky was I to have found familiar faces after all this time?


	8. Army Horses

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 8: Army Horses**

"Well, what shall we do with this mare?" one of the warriors asked.

"Why don't we just take her? Look, she bears the marks of wolves on her body, not more than a few days old. She would probably not last out on the open plain," another replied.

"And our village is always growing," added a third. "We need as many horses as we can find."

The warrior who had offered his hand to me said nothing and continued to watch as I greeted the other horses. "What say you, River?" the third warrior asked him.

"…I say that we take her," River replied calmly. He called to the blue roan on my right. "I will need your help for this, Bluecoat. Since you get on with this mare so well, you can introduce her to the herd. Will you do that?" Blue Coat tossed his head obligingly.

River smiled and removed the vine from his mouth, took the blanket from his back, and looped a length of rope around his neck. I remembered this from my time in the Lakota village, when Rain was Raging Fire's guide. I walked over to them before River could call to me.

"So you know my intent, pretty one?" he asked kindly. "I think our horses have warned you of our ways." He tied the loop closed and slipped it over my neck, and then he said to the other warriors, "Let's clean them so they can join the herd."

River started to wipe the paint from Bluecoat's legs. I quietly asked him, "So they call you Bluecoat now?"

The stallion glanced at me. "Yes. I like this name better than my old one."

"Do you?"

"Yes. We've all been renamed—I bet you have during your travels, too."

"I have," I said simply.

Our conversation having gone quiet, I took the time to really look at the village while the others were cleaned. The villagers were almost completely oblivious to the fact that I had arrived, I think, and the herd, too, continued to graze without a second thought. The animal skin huts where the people lived were over twice as large as the Lakota's homes, and I suspected that multiple families dwelled within them. The huts had been erected along the sides of the dip in the land, just where the slopes began to level into a trough. In the very middle was the pile of firewood. Where the hill behind the farthest huts leveled off at the top was the herd's territory. The grass there, I could tell, was much shorter than the grass where I stood from constant grazing, so I figured that the herd spent the majority of its time in that little area.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the rope around my neck tightened; Bluecoat was looking back at me. The other horses had already begun to amble back to the rest of the herd. "Are you coming?" he asked.

I nodded and followed him as he walked around the huts, and I saw that some of the others had gone in amidst them. Some young children and their caretakers had called them over to give them some food, which they happily ate.

"Some of the little ones' parents and older siblings own them," Bluecoat explained.

"Is that the case with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does River have younger siblings who treat you that well?"

"River _does_ have two younger brothers, but they are old enough to have their own horses, so they don't pay me much mind other than a kind word and a pat on the neck."

"Oh, I see."

"Besides, River is not my rider."

"No? Who is, then?" He stopped and looked around.

"Do you see the man with the long braid in his hair standing with the little ones?"

"Yes."

"That's him, Cloud Boy."

"Oh. So he has siblings, too?"

Bluecoat hung his head and replied grimly. "He used to have an older brother, named Forest, but he was killed, so…I was given to him after that. Forest wished for it to be that way."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

He said nothing and remained frozen in thought, and then continued on. I followed at his side, noting how far ahead of us the other horses were. The rest of our friends stood waiting for us.

"Bluecoat?"

"Yes?"

"Where…exactly are we? I thought I was completely alone in the wilderness after running away from the railroad, but to see you and the others here—"

"The others and I will explain all of that to you in a little while, after you meet the herd."

Our friends nickered to us when we'd finally caught up, and standing between us and the herd were a strawberry-roan stallion with white spots on his body and a dun mare with a mane and tail as thick as Bluecoat's. They were the head stallion and lead mare, no doubt. The horses behind them looked on warily.

"This is the mare that River charged you with?" asked the mare.

"Yes," Bluecoat replied.

The stallion stepped forward first and offered his muzzle to me to exchange breaths. He smelled of grass and corn, and seemed the kind if not reserved sort. When he stepped back, he said, "I am Red Fox."

The mare regarded me for a moment longer before she stepped forth herself. After she backed away, she said, "My name is Kana, and I am the leader of this herd. Welcome." With that, she turned away with a swish of her tail and went off alone somewhere.

Bluecoat, who had stayed a little ways behind me, nudged my hip with his muzzle. "Go on and meet the others. It's all right."

This time, it was I who led Bluecoat around, as I made my way through the herd to greet horses that had moments ago tried to stare me down. I saw several others with the army's symbol burned onto their shoulders, and I gradually began to wonder just how this herd had become so large less and less.

* * *

I found out that this group of humans had been the enemy of the army for quite some time, and had taken many cavalry mounts from the soldiers over the years. Nearly half of the original herd had been comprised of stolen army horses.

When I'd finished greeting the herd, we stood off to the side on our own. They told me that our old home was not too far away—it was just beyond the mountains that I mentioned before. Major Gordon had apparently launched a campaign against these Natives about a year ago, and they had, naturally, fought back. The Major had eventually lost his life, as did many of the other soldiers. The warriors had taken the horses that had not been injured. They had traded some of them way later on, but Bluecoat and the others had been kept on and renamed.

Since they had come from the fort, all of them had been given names that related to the army. Bluecoat had been named both for the soldiers' uniforms and for his own coloring; the bay stallion had been renamed Cutmane; the brown mare had been named Yellowleg for the yellow strips of fabric that ran down the soldiers' pants; the dapple grey had been named Smoking Bore, no doubt for the pistols and rifles that had been used against the Natives.

"I think that just about sums it up," Cutmane concluded.

"What happened to the soldiers?" I asked

"The wounded and dying were taken away to the fort, I suppose," Yellowleg replied. "The warriors didn't bother to stay near the battle sight."

"But why are they here if the fort is nearby?"

"Well, these are our winter grounds. The buffalo graze in the plain where the fort is—that's why the battle took place at all. But the buffalo are only in one place for a few days at most before they move on again."

"And some of the older horses said that they don't always spend the same amount of time in a given place from year to year, either," Smoking Bore added. "The humans were packing up to move on themselves this time last year when the battle started. But the buffalo took longer this year."

"Really?"

"Yes," said Cutmane. "That's probably why the army hasn't bothered to come looking for us this time around. They might have thought we wouldn't dare to be near their territory after that battle."

"Traveling at night and keeping quiet always help, too," said Yellowleg.

"So what tribe is this?" I asked.

"This is the Mountain Crow band," Bluecoat explained, "which makes up half of the Crow Nation."

"The other half is the River Crow band, and that's who got some of the horses from the fort," added Yellowleg.

"I see," said I. I remembered hearing the soldiers mentioning the Crow before. I had no idea that they, too, were split into bands.

After that, it was time for the herd to receive its ration of corn and grain. Women walked up the embankment carrying large baskets full of the precious food, and the herd eagerly waited for them to set them down. One woman bypassed the entire herd and walked over to us. She was pretty, and kept her waist-length hair in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. She was smiling as she walked. "Well, here's our little group of army horses."

Smoking Bore whinnied and trotted to her happily. Bluecoat said quietly, "Her rider is this woman's brother. He comes with her when she visits sometimes."

"I see," I replied.

The woman put the basket down, patted Smoking Bore on the neck, and turned away singing to herself. The sight of the food made my stomach tighten with hunger. I'd been living on now sparse shrubs and grass for days, and part of me wanted to eat the entire basket myself. But, only two of us could eat from it at a time, so I waited patiently.

While we waited, I turned to Bluecoat and asked, "You said that the Major was killed?"

"Yes, he was," the stallion replied gravely.

"Do…do you know what happened to my father?"

He said nothing at first, but replied in a low voice, "I last saw him staggering away from the battle after Major Gordon was hit. I've no idea if he's alive now."

"Do you mean that he was shot, too?"

"I believe he was," he said.

I stood there numbly, utterly horrified at the thought of my father's death. "What about my mother?"

"She was alive and well the day we left the fort. I'm sure she's fine."

Was she really? I remembered how my mother always pined for my father when he left the fort, and how she worried if he would ever return from battle. For her sake, I wished that my father had been patched up and been given the go-ahead to go into battle again, just like before.

Bluecoat nudged me with his muzzle and started for the basket. I wasn't hungry anymore, but he wouldn't eat unless I did, so I put my muzzle into the basket and chewed a mouthful of grain. Now I really had no one but my friends here.


	9. The Hunt

**I must warn you here and now that this** is** a hunting scene, and though there is not anatomical detail in the description, there may be parts in which many might find…oh, I don't know, cruel…in some way. While I stress the fact that this is what the Plains Indians did to survive (because the soldiers sure as hell weren't going to give them that much food), I must also stress that if you do not like the idea of reading about killing animals or are just squeamish, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.**

**I do NOT want to see flames in the review boxes, I do NOT want to get an abuse notice from 's moderators, and I certainly do NOT want to hear any whining about the fact that I am a horrible person for talking about this and promoting the ideal of killing animals and all that jazz, because I gave you FAIR WARNING!!!**

**Got it? Good. Keep it that way.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 9: The Hunt**

"Do you see the animal that I'm talking about?" River asked the other hunters. "It is standing on the side of the herd that is nearest to us, and walks with a slight limp."

"I see it," one of the hunters replied. Several other murmurs of agreement filtered through the hunting party.

Just a few days ago, after Bluecoat had taken me around on a tour of the village, the Chief had instructed River, as the leader of one of two hunting groups, to judge whether or not I would make a good warhorse. He had laid a blanket on my back and tied a vine to my jaw with no problem, in front of the entire village, and then had climbed onto my back and taken me out beyond the village for a while. He tested my paces, from walk to gallop, made sure that I could leap over ditches and boulders with ease, and that I could do all of this while carrying a grown man on my back. He had brought me back to the village and reported to his people that he had the utmost confidence in me, and he suggested that he use me as his mount for today's hunt rather than his usual horse as a final test.

So, here I am now, standing quietly as I listen to River and the other hunters make plans for the final kill. Now that I think of it, it would be the last kill in this territory for them. Every time the hunters came back, they reported that the buffalo were slowly moving further and further away from the village. While we stood here under the cloudless sky above the plain, the people we had left behind were busy packing for the journey. We had to follow the herd soon or we would be in trouble.

"That is the buffalo we will take today," he said.

"The herd has begun to move," another hunter said.

"Should we try to take a young one, as well, River? We will have extra meat for the journey ahead of us that way," asked yet another hunter.

"If we can manage it, then yes, we will take a young one. If we cannot, then the village will be all right until the herd comes to rest again," he replied. I felt River shift his weight to look back at the others and send them on their way.

The hunting party, consisting of River and twenty-something others, was split into three groups. The first, the drivers, followed the herd in the rear and pushed them forward, while the other two followed alongside and split the herd until they could shoot their target with arrows. Bluecoat and the rest of my friends were with the drivers.

We were positioned above the herd on a small ridge, about forty yards downwind, and it was important that this distance was maintained until the right moment, otherwise the herd could run too early. For that reason, the first side group and the drivers moved out in a slow canter, careful not to make any unnecessary noises.

When the drivers were in position behind the herd, they urged their horses into a full gallop, whistling and shrieking and loudly as they could. River waited with his side group until the herd was up to full speed, and we, too, took off and thundered through the long grass at a flat run.

River spotted the buffalo that he'd chosen before and signaled to the rest of the hunters. Some from our group and some from the other one made running passes through the herd. The great brown animals scattered to avoid them. In this way, we created smaller and smaller bunches of buffalo until our intended target and three others ran ahead of us. Our group had them completely surrounded on all sides.

River whistled to two of the hunters, and they chased the two adults away. The calf was unable to turn with them so quickly, and wailed helplessly as its mother was pushed away. I think one of the hunters could not take the sight and drove the calf away towards its mother.

I felt the rope drop onto my neck and immediately knew that River was lining up a shot on the now tiring buffalo. What I _didn't_ realize, however, was that he was not aiming with a bow and arrow like I'd thought. He was loading a revolver, one that had undoubtedly been taken from one of the soldiers, and the piercing sound of a gunshot in my ear startled me a little. Still, I did not falter and kept galloping until a second and a third shot brought the buffalo down.

I skidded to a halt and whirled around to see that the buffalo was already dead. Two hunters had already dismounted and had begun to start cutting the meat into manageable pieces. The sound of the buffalo herd's hooves grew distant, only to be replaced y the clatter of horse hooves. The other side group and the drivers had already taken a calf and strung its limbs together around one of the men's spears.

"We saw you kill the buffalo, River," said Cutmane's rider. "We thought the mare would pass it before you could shoot."

"Seeing you reminded me of the soldiers," said another.

"Did it?"

"Yes, except the gun was different. I imagined the old ones they used, the ones that spit out great clouds of fire and smoke from the end," one of the older riders said, and several others of his age nodded in agreement.

"Clouds of fire, eh?" River mused to himself. "Hmm…."

"What are you thinking, River?"

"It's nothing," he said quickly. "Let's finish here and bring the meat back to the village. We have to move before the buffalo get too far away from us."

The men cut the meat in silence after that, aware of the need for this food and of the ever-moving buffalo. All of the hunters carried something with them, including the bones and the hide, as we made our way back to the village. When we got there, River informed the Chief of the buffalo's movements. We would be ready to follow by sunrise tomorrow.

* * *

Just as the sun began to rise the next morning, the villagers had already finished packing away a few last-minute items and secured them and the rest of their belongings to animal skin slings. Some of the villagers came up the hill and led horses away. They were to pull the slings behind them and some of the villagers as we traveled while the rest of us either went out on scout missions or plodded alongside the caravan.

Four warriors on horseback rode up the hill and drove the herd forward as the villagers headed out. I could see River and his right-hand man riding out in front. They took us away from the old settlement and along the hunting path we'd taken the day before, and the entire village came to a halt when we reached the point where the hunting party had broken away from the buffalo herd the day before. River whistled to some of the other warriors and sent them ahead. Had they lost the buffalo?

"I'm tired of walking!"

I looked over and saw a little girl tugging on her caretaker's skirt, and a little boy clung to her chest. "I know you are, but I can't carry the both of you." A nearby warrior overheard the conversation and jogged over to Bluecoat, who walked beside me on my left. He quickly looped a short rope around his neck and led him over to the young woman and the two children. The woman leapt onto his back with the ease of a warrior and helped the man lift the children up so they could sit in front of her.

"Thank you, Warrior," she said gratefully. "They can rest their legs and sleep a little now."

"You're quite welcome," he replied with a smile. "I'll lead the stallion for you, if you like."

"Oh, thank you."

Now left on my own, I resigned myself to the thought that this would be a long, boring trek to our next destination. However, Yellowleg, Smoking Bore, and Cutmane ambled over to me.

"_There_ you are!" said Yellowleg. "We wondered where Bluecoat had taken you."

"Where he'd taken me?" I asked in confusion.

"Why, yes," replied Cutmane. "He' spent most of his time with you these past few days."

"Just as he did in the fort. D'you remember that, Adelia?"

"Remember what, playing in the fort? Sure, I remember, just as I'm sure you remember," I said.

The three of them looked at each other, and then Yellowleg said, "Do you not see it?"

"See what?"

"You don't see the similarities, do you? When you told us what had happened to you after you left the fort, you said that the mustang in the last village followed that mare around for nearly two years, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And they grew close, didn't they?"

"Well, yes, they did. But Yellow—"

"Don't you think he feels the same closeness with you?"

"…No. Why on earth would you say such a thing?"

"How very unaware you are, dear Adelia," Smoking Bore sighed.

I wasn't quite sure what they were playing at. Surely, they didn't think that Bluecoat had bonded that closely with me? I'd only been here for a few days!!

I heard River whistle again and saw some of the other warriors scramble to find their horses. Bluecoat's rider looked around wildly for the stallion, calling to him frantically.

"He's over here, Warrior!" the young woman replied.

He turned around. "Oh! I was a bit worried for a moment."

"I'm sorry, but my brother and sister were tired, and this warrior here brought Bluecoat to me so they could rest. You can have him back, if you like."

"No, that's all right. I'll borrow one of the other horses." He turned around again and spotted me. Smiling, he walked over to me and held out his hand. "Will you come with me, mare?"

I stood still as he tied a vine to my jaw and swung onto my back without even placing a blanket down first. The other warrior asked, "What's going on, Cloud Boy?"

"The buffalo have moved faster than we expected, so we have to send out scouts to track them down." He tapped my sides with his heels and urged me forward to the front of the caravan at a canter. A feeling of dread crept up my spine as we went.


	10. The End of the Hunt

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Dreamworks' or Kathleen Duey's characters in any way, shape, or form.**

**Part 3: Graceful Maiden**

**Chapter 10: The End of the Hunt**

We cantered ahead to meet River and the rest of the warriors at the front. The Chief was atop his almost draft-horse like stallion, and his wife sat atop Kana. (Now I knew how she had become the lead mare.) They were draped in blankets to shield them against the cool morning air. With them were River, his right-hand man, Yellowleg's rider, Cutmane's rider, Smoking Bore's rider, and Cloud Boy.

"What would you have us do, River?" Yellowleg's rider asked.

"His Grace and I have agreed that Forest and I will remain within easy eyesight of the warriors who remain here," he replied. "You four will scout ahead, in two groups of two. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the four men replied.

"Please be careful," the Chief's wife said. "We are far out into the open now, and we don't know what hazards await us."

"We'll be cautious, Your Grace," River said. Then to the others, he muttered, "Let's go."

We set off at a gallop, leaving River and Forest behind after we'd gone several yards and coming to rest when they were just specks on the lightening horizon. Then Smoking Bore's and Yellowleg's riders galloped ahead of Cloud Boy and Cutmane's rider until they, too, were just small dots on the horizon. We fanned out, keeping about five horse-lengths between each pair. We progressed at a lazy trot so the men did not miss anything as they scanned the ground.

We went along like this for some time, long enough for the shadows of the trees to lengthen into thin points, before Smoking Bore's rider spotted something. He whistled to Yellowleg's rider and galloped off to the right with him down a small pass. Cloud Boy turned me around and signaled to River and Forest, who would then contact the villagers.

We waited for the two warriors to return until the shadows had retreated under the midday sun, and then watched as River galloped forward to meet us. I could see Forest with the rest of the villagers behind him, still moving at the same steady pace as before.

"What's happened?" he asked. "We've been at a stand-still for too long."

"Sitewa saw something while we were tracking the buffalo," Cutmane's rider replied. "He and Noka galloped off that way to follow a track, I suppose."

"Should we follow them, River?" Cloud Boy asked. "They might need help."

River furrowed his eyebrows a he looked off into the distance. I understood his concern. On the one hand, the two riders and their horses could be hurt and in need of rescue. But, on the other, if _they_ had been taken out by some incredible danger, he could very well get more warriors killed if he sent more after them.

"River?" Cloud Boy asked.

The other man sighed heavily. "Okagate," he said to Cutmane's rider, "go after them."

"Right away." He spun the stallion around and took off after Sitewa and Noka at a gallop.

The villagers, in the meantime, had been making good progress and had caught up with us a few minutes later. River turned when the Chief came up behind him and told him what had happened.

"You were right to send Okagate after them," he said. "If they _have_ come to harm, the danger has more than likely passed by now. He should be able to find them and return with no trouble."

His wife rode up. "Shall I tell the others to settle down until we move again? Some of the young ones are growing tired."

"Yes, that's fine. Good thinking as usual, my wife." She smiled at that and trotted back to the villagers, giving out orders as she went.

The three warriors returned when the shadows had once again grown long and thin from the evening sun. Sitewa and Noka had not been hurt at all; rather, they had tracked the buffalo herd through the pass and into a vast, green valley "that seemed to be untouched by winter," as they put it. I was glad they had found the herd again. I never liked the tension that clouded the villagers when they moved. River's anxiety was even more unnerving. Though I had only been here a short while, I never once, until then, thought that he could ever become unsettled.

We followed the warriors when the sun rose the next morning, and there, on the edge on the trees at the valley's rim, we stayed, waiting for the buffalo to move once again. The sight was beautiful. From our high vantage point, we could see the entire herd and everything else in the valley. We would know when the herd was moving on, and we wouldn't have to rush or have other incidents like this.

* * *

We stayed in that valley for three weeks before we had to pick up and move again. (Even the buffalo were reluctant to leave!!) As the days passed, I became further and further intertwined with the Crow's herd and with the people themselves. I was taken out on hunts when warriors wanted to give their horses a rest, and at no time did I sense anger or resentment from them for it. Truly, this herd was as accepting as their humans.

My name had been changed to Firecloud, both in memory of the first hunt I participated in and to my attachment to Bluecoat and my other friends. River had apparently used the name to refer to me after that day, and the other hunters had taken to it right away. It passed from villager to villager after that, and when I had finally been given to a young warrior named Akowanate, he decided not to change it. It turned out that he was a distant relative of Cloud Boy's, through some long-ago marriage, I think. He was very much like my Silent Wind, although he was much bolder than he had been. Still, he was kind to me and an excellent horseman for his young age, and as valued as the older warriors.

* * *

The buffalo picked up speed in their trek though the plains as the seasons wore on. We moved every few days instead 0f every few weeks during the warm months. Then we worked our way back to our winter home, only a few miles from my birthplace. Some of our own mares had given birth, too, bearing foals that had been conceived the year before. Even Kana had left the herd for a few days, returning with a brown colt at her side. The Chief's wife was overjoyed, but her son, Gold Moon, was a little upset that he would not be able to take Kana out on hunts for a while.

"Cheer up," River had told him one day. "You can always take one of the other horses out. Besides, Yellowleg, Smoking Bore, and Firecloud will foal _next_ year, so you won't be the only one."

That's right. During our trek across the land, Yellowleg and Smoking Bore bonded with two of the stallions in the herd and mated; so, too, have Bluecoat and I grown close, the result of an old friendship that had somehow lasted through the years. This time next year, I will sneak away from the herd and bear my foal, thereby fully embedding myself within this herd and with the Crow. So many times, I had been content with to live the rest of my life in the most horrid conditions only to be given a second chance to find somewhere better. After I escaped the railroad-men, I thought that my luck had run, and that I really _would_ remain in the wild. Never had I expected to end up here, with humans as kind as the Lakota, with my foal-hood friends, with a loving mate, and with a foal to look forward to. My only wish is that Bright Star of the West and Clear Sky find their own happiness, too.

* * *

Characters for all parts of the Lakota Life Series

* (_Indicates a character who appears somewhere in the Spirit franchise, and is therefore not my own; he/she does appear more than once in my stories_.)

** (Indicates my original character/s; he or she does appear more than once in my stories.)

Lakota Life Part 3: Graceful Maiden

Calm Waters and Brook: Star's older sister and niece, respectively. The former is chestnut with a darker mane, tail, and legs; the latter is palomino.

_Sierra and Rain_: Mother and daughter; we meet Sierra at the end of Kathleen Duey's book, _Bonita_, and Rain at the end of _Sierra_ (also by Kathleen Duey). Sierra is sorrel with white splotches on her face, body, and legs; (we all know what Rain looks like).

_Storm_: Sierra's mate and Rain's father; we meet him in _Sierra_. He is a black-and-white pinto.

Dusk and Soaring Eagle: Mother and son, the former is the steed of Chief Loud Fox, and the latter is the steed of one of the village's warriors. Dusk is a black-and-white paint, and Soaring Eagle is a brown-and-white pinto.

_Bright Star of the West_: The sorrel mare we see when Spirit escapes from the fort. She has yellow dots on her left shoulder, two feathers in her mane, and is ridden by _Swift Deer_ (the man wearing a loincloth in the aforementioned scene).

_Graceful Maiden_: The grey mare (I'm assuming it's a mare) we see when Spirit leaves the fort. She has three black horseshoes on her left shoulder, and is ridden by _Silent Wind_ (the man wearing a feather in his hair and long deerskin pants in the aforementioned scene) and later by a Crow warrior named Akowanate (Ah-koh-wah-nahteh).

_Clear Sky_: The grey stallion we see when Spirit and Rain tour the village. He wears blue paint around his right eye and a feather in his mane, and is ridden by Half Moon.

Kita and Dark Shadow: Clear Sky's parents. They were killed when the hunting party was attacked by soldiers from the army. Kita was a bit darker than her son; Dark Shadow, as his name suggests, was a very dark grey.

Rona: Storm's half-sister. She was killed alongside Clear Sky's parents.

Cornelius and Connie: Graceful Maiden's parents. Cornelius was the steed of Major Gordon, and Connie was one of the fort's brood mares. Cornelius is dapple grey and Connie is jet black.

Sirdar, Leo, Duke, and Akasha: The four colts that escaped from the fort with Graceful Maiden. They are jet black, chestnut, strawberry-roan, and blood-bay, respectively.

Rosa and Mercedes: The two fillies that escaped from the fort with Graceful Maiden. Rosa is a palomino and Mercedes is a dapple grey

Yellowleg: A member of the Crow herd of horses and an old friend of Graceful Maiden, warhorse of Noka (Noh-kah). She is a brown mare who wears yellow stripes on her legs.

Smoking Bore: A member of the Crow herd of horses and an old friend of Graceful Maiden, warhorse of Sitewa (Sih-tehwah). She is a dapple grey mare and wears no body paint.

Cutmane: A member of the Crow herd of horses and an old friend of Graceful Maiden, warhorse of Okagate (Oh-kah-gahteh). He is a bay horse and wears no body paint.

Bluecoat: A member of the Crow herd of horses and an old friend of Graceful Maiden, warhorse of Cloud Boy. He is a blue roan stallion and wears no body paint.

Kana: The Chief's wife's horse as well as her son, Gold Moon's, warhorse. She is the lead mare of the Crow herd and bears a son in the end. She is a dun mare.

Red Fox: The strawberry-roan head stallion of the Crow herd.

River: Leader of one of the Crow's hunting parties

Forest: River's right-hand


End file.
